Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just my Husband, laptop, my 3 dogs and a very overactive imagination… Dragon Ball Z and any songs mentioned in this fic DO NOT belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for my own twisted amusement.
AN: Special thanks for Dragonbabezee for betaing and pointing out my scatter-brained errors! I sometimes get super excited and forget the minor, but sometimes important details.
The Popstar
Chapter 13
Bulma awoke the next morning with a severe headache and did not want to get out of bed. She rolled over, pulling the comforter over her head. When she was off, she would be ordering blackout curtains for her bedroom. She smiled despite the pounding headache. Vegeta had actually made sure she was getting time off. Or had she just imagined that? She'd find out from him later on.
She reached for her phone on the night stand and saw that her social media was an absolute circus. People were messaging her on every social media platform she was on asking if she was alright, or she was tagged in news articles speculating that she had been hospitalized for a drug overdose.
"Here we go," she sighed as she scrolled, not bothering to respond to a single one of them. There were pictures of Vegeta standing in the hospital carrying her bridal style. He looked angry and she didn't blame him. The fanfare surrounding her was becoming ridiculous and she could only imagine the lies and over embellished stories that were going to pop up after all of this. A moment later though, she shrugged and decided she didn't care. Vegeta had done the right thing and the media would have jumped all over it regardless of how he would have handled it.
She got up and made her way to the kitchen where it looked as though Vegeta had already gone shopping and had cooked breakfast. She smiled to herself. She'd never had anyone, other than her parents or Lapis, actually insist on taking care of her. There was fruit on the counter top, meat, vegetables, juice and bottles of water in the fridge. It was late morning, so he'd had time to get up and do a major grocery shop.
Bulma wasn't hungry, but her stomach wasn't settled, so she grabbed a piece of toast and went to find Vegeta in the gym.
"You didn't have to make all that food or go shopping," she said, sitting down near him where he was doing chin ups. "Thank you though."
"You need to eat," he said. "And drink water."
"Yea, I know," she said lightly.
"No, you need to." He said firmly. "It is my job to protect your physical wellbeing from crazed fans, not ensure you follow a healthy regimen. I will make sure you have healthy meal options while you are off so you can recover; that was the deal I made with your idiot manager. If I can go beyond my job description, you can look after yourself."
She looked at him a moment. Was he angry with her? "Okay," she said. "I'm sorry for scaring you yesterday. I didn't mean to."
"That is what makes it worse," he said honestly, letting himself drop from the bar and looking at her. "You are destroying yourself for a thankless industry without any thought about yourself."
"I know," she said quietly, looking at the floor. "After the show tonight, I'll start taking that more seriously."
He grunted and nodded in agreement. "How are you feeling today?"
Bulma shrugged. "Tired and I have a headache, but that's every day."
"Are you up for the show today?"
"I'll do it," she nodded. "I have to. I don't have a choice. Not after what happened yesterday. Everyone will assume I had a breakdown or drug overdose or something."
"You did have a breakdown."
"Right, but it's going to be over embellished and mentioned from now on until forever as it is. If I cancel the day of, regardless of the reason, I'll for sure never hear the end of it. Not just from fans and the press, but the record label and organizers as well," she said. "Whatever. I'll be fine. It's one last thing before I'm off for a bit, right? How long am I off for again?"
"Four months," he said. "I did try to negotiate for more."
"It's better than nothing and a start, right?" she smiled. "I haven't had four months off since… never. No one stands up to Yamcha or the label on that either, so thank you."
"What time do you need to be there for?"
"Like early afternoon," she said. "I don't know what time I'm on, but might as well go and be early for makeup and wardrobe."
"You are certain you are up for it?" he asked again.
"Yea, I should be," she nodded. "It's only three songs and then I'm done for a while. It won't be easy, but I'll make it work."
She left him to finish his workout and sat outside for a little while to eat something before deciding on a bath and a glass of wine to help her to relax.
-0-0-0-
Bulma and Vegeta took their time individually getting ready for the day and arrived at the concert hall shortly after lunch time. Immediately, they were bombarded by paparazzi, hounding her with questions about how she was feeling and if it was anything serious.
"I'm fine," she reassured them, deciding to stop and briefly address them. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she wasn't fit to perform tonight or that she'd had an overdose or something else as awful. "I've been pushing myself since my abduction because working is the only thing that keeps me sane."
"Was it a case of exhaustion or was it drugs?" Someone asked.
"Exhaustion and dehydration," she answered. "I can assure you all, I'm fine. I didn't OD on anything. I just need to start taking self-care a little more seriously, that's all."
"Are you on anything right now?"
"Just flying high on adrenaline and excitement for tonight's show," She answered optimistically and decided she'd given them enough. "Which I hope you all enjoy!"
Vegeta took that as his cue and began helping her push through the sea of photographers and reporters, still shouting questions at her. He fully understood now why she felt that cancelling had not been an option. She seemed to be in good spirits and alright, though he was skeptical as to whether or not she was well enough to pull this off.
Once inside and backstage, where the media was not permitted, Bulma was able to take a breather. It ended up being a good thing they had arrived a little earlier than necessary; there had been a slight problem with wardrobe and so she'd needed to make some last minute changes to her stage costumes. There were two wardrobe changes to go with all three different songs. Because of the incident the previous day, one of the organizers had decided to throw an act in between Bulma's second song and her last song to give her some extra time to change so she was not as rushed, rather than changing backstage quickly as her backup dancers finished the second number. She chose a tight-fitting, black body con dress to wear over a silk black corset. Fishnet stockings, and garter, black booty shorts and knee-high black leather boots. All she had to do was take the dress off and then her second outfit was good to go. She would have a few minutes to take a breather and relax before performing her last song.
On top of everything else that had already gone wrong, Lapis had not shown up yet and Bulma was beginning to worry.
Finally, she got a message from Lazuli. Apparently he had been held up at rehearsals back in New York and had missed his plane, but had been able to catch another last minute, but his connection flights had not been worked out until he'd arrived at his first layover. From there, everything had been delayed and so he was currently mid-air with no ETA.
"Fuck," she groaned. "I should have stayed home,"
"What is it?" Vegeta asked as she stared at her phone, looking like she was about to have an emotional meltdown.
"Lapis likely won't make it on time," she said, trying to keep her voice even. Without him, she was not sure how she would be able to pull off her performance. "I love that man to death, but he seriously has to work on his time management skills."
She took a deep breath and winced as the hairstylist began sewing in tracks of hair extensions into her hair. Her phone rang. It was Lazuli.
"It's okay, shit happens," she said, more trying to convince herself. "Just get everyone here and we can discuss it while my hair is being done. We'll just all wing it without him. Two of those songs I usually do alone anyway… Right. Well, best case scenario, he makes it minutes before we're on and if he doesn't, he doesn't. We'll make it work and no one will know otherwise."
Everyone got together and agreed to do the choreography as though it were a solo act. Bulma asked for a chair for one of them; she would improvise on her own and do like a lap dance with no partner. The beauty of it was she could use it as leverage and save herself some energy that way since she now had no partner to help her.
Vegeta was thorough in checking out all of the security measures being taken. Anyone who was not performing, besides stylists, managers and security were not permitted backstage. Everyone permitted backstage had to be on a list and show proper ID to get in. If they left, they had to sign out and sign back in and show ID before being permitted to return.
The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind. Bulma had, of course, not eaten since the small amount of food she'd had at breakfast and was consuming energy drinks like they were going out of style. Just before it was her turn to go on, Vegeta handed her a bottle of water.
"Drink," he said.
"I'm fine," she replied, but took the bottle. "I just had an energy drink and just peed. If I drink anything else, I'll burst on stage."
"I realize this is your last thing to do before you are off for a little while, but you would like to finish this gig conscious, would you not?" he asked and she could tell he was irritated with her.
"Yes, I know," she sighed, opening the bottle and taking a few sips just to appease him. "I'll drink nothing but water for like a whole month after today, alright?"
He shook his head at her, but said nothing. She looked amazing; her hair was pulled tight at the sides, and the top was big and poofy and completely straight down to the middle of her back. It looked thick and heavy. Her eye makeup was dark; black and gold smokey cat eyes, almost 60's retro finished off with crimson red lipstick. She looked flawless, but he could tell she was tired. She was snippy and pissy and he just hoped she could make this one last thing work for the evening without harming or completely embarrassing herself.
Finally, it was her turn to go up.
Lapis had not made it, not to anyone's surprise by this point. She gave Vegeta a quick hug and climbed the back stage stairs along with her dancers, waiting her turn.
She took a deep breath. I can do this, she told herself confidently. Just three songs and she was done. Three songs she'd performed one hundred times or more before this and feeling worse than she did now. She'd be fine, she reassured herself. Vegeta was just being over paranoid. She made a mental note to find a way to thank him and do something special for him while she was off. She knew he meant well, but now was not the time to make her worry about failing tonight. She wouldn't, she told herself. She'd been doing this for way too long. Yesterday had just been unfortunate.
It was their turn and she felt the usual rush of adrenaline she always did whenever she performed live in front of such a huge audience. She'd be fine.
The first song went off perfectly without a hitch. The second was a bit more challenging and she was thankful she'd had the foresight to use a chair as a prop. Midway through, her stamina began to take a nosedive. She relied on using the chair to keep her balance, did a lot of hair tossing and flipping and sat through a portion of it while moving provocatively to the music and lyrics of the song.
By the end of it, she was spent.
She was tired and overheated from her wardrobe choice. Exiting the stage quickly and getting out of that dress was the best feeling in the world, except she'd wished she hadn't chosen a corset to wear. It was constricting and uncomfortable. Usually that was not a problem for her, but tonight it was. Vegeta was there and had a bottle of water for her.
She took it and chugged about half of it and sat for a moment on the stage steps, looking like she was barely able to keep her eyes open. After a moment, she realized that sitting had been the worst thing she could have done and was not sure if she could get back up again, nevermind going back up there and finishing her last song. Her legs were cramping and she just felt like it would take every ounce of energy she had left just to stand up again.
"Are you alright?" Vegeta asked her, noticing that she looked as though something was wrong.
"No," she shook her head. She felt light headed and spent and was afraid if she stood back up again now, her knees would buckle or she would fall down the stairs. "I just need a minute," she said, not wanting to alarm him, but put her head between her knees, trying to take a few deep breaths.
As she sat there, wishing that Lapis had been able to make it, racking her brain over how she could possibly manage to push herself through one more performance, an idea came to her. "I need your help," she said to Vegeta.
"What can I do?"
"I need you to come on stage with me," she said slowly as she thought about it. "I need you to help me perform."
"I… Absolutely not," he replied, standing up. "I am not a performer or dancer,"
"I know, but I don't need you to be," she said. "You know the routine. You come to all of my rehearsals. All I need from you is to be a pillar, let me have my hand on you for support, take my hand if I need you to, and maybe spin me a few times… Like help me so I don't lose my balance and fall. Just make it look good. You know, dance with me… improv."
"I am sorry, I cannot-"
"You don't even need to do much, Vegeta. Just help me make it look like we're dirty dancing and we can pull this off," she pushed. "Please? I can't do it on my own."
Vegeta grit his teeth and sighed. This was not a part of his job description. He was not opposed to helping her, but in front of thousands of people and on live television? That was pushing his limits.
"Vegeta, I need you to do this for me," she insisted. "There's no one else and I can't do this on my own. If I do, I'll fail and everyone will think I'm high or drunk or whatever. Please!"
He took another few moments to deliberate on it. "I suppose walking out on stage with you could not be any worse than walking through a mountainous region full of landmines."
Bulma smiled brightly at him and he couldn't recall seeing her look so happy and thankful. The way her eyes sparkled brightly at his acquiescence of this absolutely ridiculous request of hers made him happy that he could do something to help her. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could. "It's just this one time, I promise," she said quietly into his neck. "I'll give you a bonus and I promise it will never happen again. I'm taking a long break after this thanks to you and you can go back home for a few weeks or do whatever you want,"
He hugged her back briefly before gently pushing her away. "What is it you need me to do?" he asked, his features set in a serious frown, focused on the mission at hand.
Bulma shrugged and sighed. "I don't know," she said, closing her eyes a moment. "K so, you know the song. It's essentially about a couple dancing dirty together at a club. Typically I do this one solo, but it will work with a partner, which is to my advantage right now. So just move to the beat and let me do most of the work." She illustrated by wrapping an arm around his neck and leaning back so that she was hanging loosely off of him; her hips pushed into his and she subtly ground them into him suggestively.
"Like this," she said. "Place an arm around my lower back or waist to support me," she instructed, but noticed the clueless frown taking over his features. "Haven't you ever grinded with a girl on the dance floor at a club before?"
Vegeta gave her a look. "No," he deadpanned. "At the age most guys were going out to get drunk and dry hump women on the dance floor, I was too busy saving the world from insurgents."
She chuckled at him. "Okay, well pretend you're like nineteen again, but actually fun and went out and met someone super cute like me, and show me some moves. I know you can move, you can fight. Same thing… Kinda. It doesn't have to be polished and perfect. That's why I know you can do this."
He frowned at her.
"In other words, loosen up," Lazuli said. She was already changed into her second costume and was waiting with some of the other dancers to head up on stage again to finish the last song and had overheard their conversation. "It just needs to look like you two want to fuck on the dance floor. Just move a bit, come here, Bulma," Bulma went to her. They began to dance suggestively in front of him. The other girl spun Bulma around, but essentially let her lead and responded to whichever direction Bulma wanted to go. "Like that,"
"Why don't you two just go out and do that?" he asked.
"Ha, I don't think so," Bulma snorted. "No offence,"
"None taken," the blonde smiled slyly. "Though I'd do it. It would be hot,"
"It would, but it would cause far too much of an uproar," she said. "I'm too tired to feel like dealing with the blow back it would cause. You got it?" she asked Vegeta.
"I think so," he nodded. "What do I do if you do stumble?"
Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose. That was a very real possibility right now, even with Vegeta's help. "Just help me back up as quickly as possible and keep going as though it never happened."
Vegeta nodded.
"Alright, we need to go now," she said.
"Wait, what am I to wear?" he asked. "This is adequate?"
She turned to look at him. He was wearing his sexy fitted black cargo pants that she loved; they made his ass look great and accentuated his thighs. As per usual, he was also wearing a black v neck t-shirt that hugged his lean, well-built physique. She took her time looking him over critically before nodding. "That's more than adequate. You look hot," she said before she could stop herself. "I'm in black too, so we technically match. Let's go!"
Bulma grabbed his hand and practically dragged him behind her to the stage where another performer was nearly finished their routine. "Just don't overthink it," she advised him. "We'll be fine. You know the song, you've seen me do it a thousand times. Just let me lead and be a post."
"A post that wants to fuck you, though," he clarified.
"Right," she nodded. "Don't be afraid to put your hands on me. The more handsy you are, the more believable it will look, like this was planned instead of last minute. You'll do fine," she reassured him, still holding his hand.
Vegeta took a deep breath as they waited. Already the heat from the lights was overwhelming to him and he wasn't in their direct path. He then and there decided that this was the most stressful, frightening, anxiety ridden thing that he had ever done. He would much rather be diving out of a helicopter or making his way through a minefield with the enemy in close pursuit of him instead of this.
Before he could continue on that train of thought or change his mind about doing this, he felt Bulma begin to pull him onto the stage; he hadn't even noticed until then that she'd been holding his hand the entire time they'd been standing there. He only hoped he could pull this off even half way decently so as to not embarrass her in front of all of these people. She was relying on him to get through this without being embarrassed because she did not think she had the strength to get through it on her own, he would do his absolute best to not let her down.
The other dancers were in their designated positions and music started and she let his hand go. He noticed her move her right hand behind her and splay her fingers out in what he assumed was a signal for him to stay where he was, or that's how he'd interpreted it; and so he froze. The lights flashed and when they were on, he realized that they were so bright, he couldn't even make out the crowd. Aside from the several back up dancers behind them, Lazuli included, it felt like they were the only ones on stage and that suited him just fine.
Bulma began to lip synch to the song, walking slowly out towards the crowd for a few verses before turning and strutting back to him in that alluring way he loved to watch, and fucking god was it even more glorious to observe when she was approaching him. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed back against him. He remembered that she had told him to let her take the lead and so he stepped a few steps back as she took steps forward. She then took hold of the side of his shoulder and pranced around him a few times, trailing her hand slowly and sensually across his back and shoulders as she went, her hands never leaving him, always lingering a moment longer than they needed to.
Finally, he recognized the first chorus of the song and knowing the words, he wrapped an arm around her waist, assertively bringing her close like she had shown him briefly backstage and how he would have liked to if he were to pursue her naturally. Like she had said she would, she began to move and grind against him and he followed her lead, his hand firmly on her lower back for support, pulling her in close and swaying back and forth with her as she hung loosely off of him and continued to lip synch and move suggestively against him.
It didn't take long and he began to relax a bit and feel confident; the fact that he could not see the audience or their reaction helped a lot. He carefully spun her around a few times and let her prance around him, essentially letting her make him look good like Lazuli had instructed. He could feel her energy beginning to wane the longer the song went on though, and he never remembered this song being so long.
She turned her back to him and she discreetly took both of his hands, placed them on her hips before reaching up and travelling her hands up and running her fingers through his hair on the back of his head before she plunged down to do a sexy squat, and just as he'd suspected, she needed help getting back up and so he gently pulled her back up to his level and spun her around so that she was facing him again. Fully invested into this performance now, for better or worse, he placed one of her arms around his neck and drew her closer to him so they were pressed tightly to one another, moving along together.
Bulma's breath caught as she looked back at Vegeta. He was doing even better than she'd hoped and certainly expected. Whenever she was facing him, he looked intently right at her as though he wanted to devour her. He didn't move much, but she'd asked him to be a post and what he was doing was perfect for what she'd more or less had in mind. It was as though they were mentally as well as physically in-tune with one another, and she felt her stomach flutter in excitement as she continued to dance with him. She'd been stupid to think she could go down and come right back up in a sexy stripper squat in her condition; he'd instinctively known she likely was unable to pull it off and had discreetly helped her come back up so that it hopefully appeared flawless. She hoped he would let her do it again, for the routine had her doing that twice, but the second one, she was required to move downward slowly and twerk a few times, while moving her hips suggestively on her way back up. It was challenging on a good day and she wasn't going to do it tonight, but decided she'd trust that Vegeta would pick up on what she was trying to do and help her through it. If he didn't, she knew she wouldn't be able to make it back up again in a way that looked attractive.
When the time came, she spun around and began to slowly go down. He placed his hands firmly on her sides, but loosely enough that it didn't impede her downward movement. Discreetly, he kept his hands on her sides, waiting for her to come back up and when she did, he helped pull her back up slowly and just as she was more than half way up, she felt her knee buckle.
Vegeta either must have felt it too, or he was anticipating bringing her back close to him because he quickly hauled her up, swept her around and she was once again grinding face to face against him; though by this point she was exhausted. She leaned herself right into him, hanging off of him once again and felt another fresh rush of arousal shoot through her and warm her core as he moved his thigh in between her legs. She knew he had to know that she was barely functioning by this point and that was why he'd done it, but boy did it feel good and she was almost thankful that she was to the point of exhaustion; if she wasn't she'd be trying to jump his bones the second they made it off of this stage. Not that she didn't want to now, but she knew not only was she too tired to be able to enjoy herself, but he would never allow it. It was unprofessional.
However, she now had an excuse to be naughty with him and so she took it. She looked back at him as she moved with and against him, trying to remember to lip synch to the song and she was certain she saw the same heated look of passion from him that she knew she was feeling for him.
Bulma was thankful the mic in front of her face was more or less just a prop and turned off. She sighed in pleasure as she moved against him. The apex of her thighs throbbing in need as they moved against each other and she wondered how he could stand it? She could feel him as her hips ground against his.
She was so close... to something so good… And it didn't matter that they were in front of everyone.
It was the longest four minutes and twelve seconds either of them had ever endured.
When it was over and the lights shut off, she felt herself collapse into him from sheer exhaustion and trembled against him.
"We did it," he said gently against her ear, keeping a firm hold on her, just as out of breath as she was and hoping to hide his current state.
"You did," she said, standing up and taking his hand to exit the stage quickly. Once they reached backstage, she leaned against a rail for a moment to catch her breath. She was feeling lightheaded despite her excitement and arousal and hoped she would not faint.
"Holy shit!" Lazuli exclaimed as several people rushed them as they came down the stairs. "I know I said make it look like you want to fuck out there, but damn!"
"Was it bad?" Bulma asked, stopping again and leaning against a pillar; the cold cement making her feel less dizzy and aroused.
"Well yea, it was, barely PG, but that was amazing! You should have seen yourselves!"
"Oh, I'm sure we will," she chuckled. "I need to go home,"
"Interesting performance," Yamcha said, not looking overly pleased. "Not exactly what I thought you'd had in mind, but the crowd loved it. Not sure how it will fly since this is a live performance that is being broadcasted on live television, but we'll deal with the blow back tomorrow as it comes."
"I honestly don't care," Bulma sighed. "I have to go home."
"You can't leave yet," he said. "There's an after party and you have fans to meet and greet and-"
"She's worked herself into exhaustion," Vegeta cut in. "And was barely capable of putting on a decent performance. Let the officials know that she took sick and needed to go home. Have her make a statement in the morning if you wish."
"You don't tell me how to do my job and I won't tell you how to load guns and hunt bad guys, alright?"
"It is my job to ensure she is protected. That means from you and from herself as well," Vegeta said, taking a step forward, not willing to back down on the issue.
"She doesn't need protection from me!" Yamcha scoffed.
"She is exhausted and you continue to ignore that and push her beyond her limits even though you are well aware that she is not well," Vegeta pointed out.
Yamcha inhaled and exhaled heavily. "I'm only trying to do what's best for her, too, you know!" he ran his hands through his long hair in thought and then nodded in agreement. "I guess an after party doesn't amount to that much," he admitted. "I'll be in touch tomorrow. I have a statement drafted with regards to your hiatus. I'll come by tomorrow to have you look it over and approve it before I submit it."
"Thank you," Bulma said and without further comment, followed Vegeta down the hallway backstage to the back of the building, down some concrete stairs and to the parking lot, managing to discreetly leave the concert site without causing an uproar with fans and the media. Her car was there and the driver was waiting, reading a magazine.
"You planned a quick exit?" She asked, impressed.
"I did," he nodded. He'd also had a word with the driver after the incident the previous day when he had not been in the car when Vegeta had needed to take Bulma to the hospital. The driver had just left for a few minutes to grab himself a snack and a coffee; that had been alright, but Vegeta had asked him to notify him in the future if he was to leave. He had also agreed to pay him a little bit more on this particular day to not leave or move the vehicle. Being that the driver had worked for Bulma for several years, it hadn't been difficult to convince him to stick around on the off chance she needed to make an abrupt or urgent exit.
Bulma fell asleep almost immediately in the car on the way back to her place.
Vegeta was hesitant to wake her once they arrived, but he did. "We're home," he said quietly, gently shaking her.
"Hmmn," she moaned lightly, coming to. "Good,"
He helped her out of the car and into her place; she was so tired it was almost like helping an inebriated person walk into their home.
Justice greeted them cheerfully at the door and Vegeta did not bother checking her premises for any threats, based on his demeanour; he just took her to her bedroom and helped her get her shoes off.
"Can you help me get this thing off?" she asked, referring to her tight corset stage costume and trying to undo the back with no luck.
Fuck, he thought to himself, but grunted and nodded. Helping her undress was not a good idea right now, but he could understand her wanting to get out of that thing. He followed her to her into her bathroom.
She stood in the bathroom in front of the mirror and he helped unlace and unhook the back of her corset. When it was loose, he reached for the housecoat hanging on the door and handed it to her. She put it on and then let the other garment fall to the floor. She also slid out of everything else, kicking it all towards the corner. She then began taking the extensions out of her hair. Usually the stylists did that after a show, but she'd just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
He watched her uncomfortably as she did that. It was a small wonder she had constant headaches. Her own natural hair was shoulder length and fairly thick. Why she needed it thicker and longer, down to her mid back was beyond him. Not that it didn't look great, it did. But it had to be heavy having that much hair clipped in, not to mention all the hair tossing and flipping she did while performing on stage. Right now, it just looked like a knotted mess and nothing more than a pain in the ass to remove.
"Do you need help?" he asked.
"I'd love that," she said, wincing in the mirror as she pulled out a matted strip and dropped it into the sink. She showed him how to remove them. It wasn't that it was difficult, it was working around the extra pins that had been holding the style together and the fact that her own hair had been back combed so much that it was hard sliding the pins and combs in the extensions out without ripping her own hair out in the process.
"What are we doing with these?" He asked after successfully removing one. He did not want to make them a bigger mess than they already were.
"Just toss them in the sink."
"We don't need to… brush them?" he asked in confusion.
"No. I'll toss them in the morning."
"You don't reuse these?" He frowned.
"No. They're all matted and ruined," she said. "I mean, you could, but I really don't care."
He grunted, carefully trying to remove them without hurting her. As he did that, she removed the false eyelashes and began to rub makeup remover on her face. Almost done removing the many layers of extensions, he snorted absentmindedly to himself.
"What?" she asked, dampening a face cloth. His facial expression in the mirror was unreadable other than the frown of concentration.
"I was just thinking that this whole process of getting un-done takes longer than the process of making you hot," he said without realizing how that sounded before speaking. Inwardly he chastised himself. That was not at all what he'd been trying to imply! "Not that you are not… I did not mean that-"
"I know that you meant," she smiled, unoffended as she began wiping off her makeup. "But why do you think I just go to bed with my makeup and hair still done half the time?"
He truthfully hadn't realized. He knew sometimes she did, but didn't realize it was a common occurrence. Whenever he'd see her the next day, she always looked fresh. However this was just further evidence that she did not take proper care of herself. It dawned on him then that it wasn't because she was careless or didn't care, it was because she didn't have the energy to be bothered at the end of the day after an event and no one around her even cared to notice!
She was nothing more than a product. Part of a well-oiled machine, packaged and sold and it made him angry. Wasn't she also an investment and a very valuable one at that? Her label had invested lots of money into her, as Yamcha was constantly reminding her whenever she complained about her hectic schedule or did something he did not approve of. Why did they not ensure that investment was well looked after and not burned out into the ground, he wondered and it angered him further that they obviously did not care either. So long as she kept to her schedule and showed up and performed well, that was all anyone cared about.
"I did not realize," he simply said.
"Don't worry, no one does," she said and sounded sad. "Thank you for tonight. I know that was asking a lot of you and I'm sorry for putting you in a position like that. I wouldn't have been able to pull it off on my own though without fainting or tripping."
He was quiet, as he was focused on untangling one of the exceptionally matted extensions from her own hair. It was unbelievable how tangled they were after only one evening. "Don't mention it," he said. He refused to think about it at the moment. If he did, he'd be more likely to throw her over his shoulder and finish what they had started in front of everybody.
"You'll be famous now," she said jokingly.
"Just what I always wanted," he replied dryly. He hadn't even thought of that and immediately hoped that his father was someplace remote with no immediate access to the news. He would not be pleased when he found out about this.
"Don't worry," she said. "It will blow over."
Hair extensions removed, she tossed them in the garbage bin, washed her face and began sectioning off her hair in small sections and combing them out. "Thanks for helping me with that. I'd have been here all night."
Vegeta nodded and watched her as she carefully began combing out the mess that was her actual hair. He'd never watched her get undone before… It was somewhat horrific to say the least. He picked up another comb on her countertop and gently started trying to comb the other side.
"Hmm you're a lot gentler than my mom or some of the stylists," she joked.
"Do not think you will be adding this to my regular list of things to do," he said in a prickly tone, but she could tell from his face in the mirror that he was joking.
"I wouldn't dream of it, but thank you." she said.
They were quiet as they quickly worked on brushing out her natural hair. It actually wasn't that bad and only near the roots where her hair had been tightly backcombed. The length was fine.
When they were done, she turned on the shower. "You stink," she said, smiling.
"Like you smell any better," he snorted and took that as his cue to leave before he did something stupid.
"Don't go," she said, reaching for his hand. "Stay with me."
"I cannot," he said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"It would be highly inappropriate, not to mention unprofessional," he said and even to his own ears, it sounded lame and rehearsed. Truth be told, he was still very much turned on from that performance they had just put on and he wanted nothing more than to just take a cold shower on his own.
"So what? I don't care," she groaned. "Just tonight."
He paused, but relented with a sigh, hoping he would not regret it. The longer he remained with her, it seemed the less he could deny her; apparently no matter how outrageous the request, which had been proved this evening. He removed his shirt, tossing it on the floor. He looked at her before proceeding. He knew this was a bad idea and he was about to go down a road that he could not go back on, but he almost didn't care.
Bulma couldn't help herself and placed a hand on the right side of his chest and gazed intently at him despite her fatigue, waiting and wondering if she should be bold and make a move. Now was not the time, but she just didn't want to be rejected by him, even if it was because he was right and technically doing the right thing. Truthfully she was shocked he was still there. That had to be a good sign, right? Her hand trailed lightly from his chest and down the length of his abdomen. She had seen him without his shirt on before, but she'd never touched him. Only thought about deep, but healed scars along his collarbone and down the right side of his abdomen and along his ribs reminded her of what had happened to him. He didn't take his shirt off often and she wondered if it was due to modesty or because he was ashamed of the scars? They definitely weren't a turn off to her. If anything, it was a turn on. He was like a beautiful disaster. The contrast of his handsome features and beyond perfect physique marred with the scars of what he'd been through was such a unique, yet captivating contrast. He'd never spoken to her about the incident other than the odd, vague comment here or there. The details she did know had mostly come from Goku and she wanted to know more, but had always been too afraid to ask him about it for fear of prying or putting him in an uncomfortable situation of having to relive something so horrific. She didn't like talking about her abduction and resented it when most people asked her about it; why would he want to talk about what had happened to him, Justice and his men?
Her stomach fluttered pleasantly as she recalled the performance they had put on. The way it had felt to have his arms around her, the way he had looked at her… fuck... The feel of his thick thigh between her legs as she ground up against him… Oh yes, she was still a little more than turned on despite her exhaustion. She felt her face and neck growing warm and was thankful she could brush it off as the room getting warm from the shower water running.
Without thinking, she then reached up and lightly touched the side of his face. He sure was handsome, she thought. She'd thought that from the first moment she'd met him, but thought even more so now that she knew him.
Vegeta felt his skin tingle pleasantly at her light touch as he looked back at her. His initial reaction was to leave, but he really didn't want to. He didn't mind too much having her touching him or the idea of just letting things naturally happen, even though a warning at the back of his mind sounded off, telling him that this was a very bad idea. Instead of pushing her away like he knew he should, he leaned into her hand and turned his face into the palm of her hand and kissed it.
Bulma caressed the top of his cheekbone with her thumb and decided then to be bold and make the next move. She'd seen how he'd looked at her while dancing with her. He'd wanted her too. Months of pining after him and this being the most encouraging response she'd gotten from him had made her brave and so she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.
He grunted; half in relief and half in objection of her advancement, but his mouth moved with hers of its own accord, without any hesitation, kissing her back.
Bulma's heart fluttered in excitement like a hummingbird as he kissed her back. She'd known he'd felt the same at the show and possibly had for a long time now. His lips were softer on hers than she'd imagined they would be. Feeling more confident, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him, needing to feel him close to her and against her again.
Vegeta continued to kiss her slowly and carefully, but he began to come to his senses as his head caught up with everything else and when he fully realized what he was doing, he gently pushed her away with great difficulty on his part.
Thinking he had something different in mind, Bulma let him push her away, but began pulling off her housecoat.
"This is a terrible idea," he said, realizing what she was trying to do and put his hands on hers to stop her. If for no other reason, she was tired and worn out as well. She should be resting.
"So?" She sighed. "My life is full of terrible ideas and this one feels like one of the least bad of many bad decisions I've made."
"I work for you," he reminded her gently, resting his forehead on the top of her head. He did not want to hurt her feelings or have her think he did not want her. He did, but not while he was working for her. That would only end terribly. Inwardly though, his mind was screaming so what?! If this was such a bad idea, why did it feel so right?
"So?" She shrugged, echoing the voice in his head, leaning in and kissing his neck, trying to encourage him back to her. "I see how you look at me and I know you want me,"
He was not sure he would be able to remain employed by her at this point. Of course he wanted her, but she was off limits. He could not be working for her while being intimate with her. That was not a good arrangement and would spell disaster right out of the gate. Quitting working for her was not an option either because if he quit for her, what would he do here? Nothing. He would go back to the base and wait for them to deploy him. Not only that, but he wouldn't be able to just trust some other fool with her safety, nor would he trust anyone else to live with her either. Earlier, he'd gotten a taste of her, what her body felt like pressed intimately into his as they danced. Hell if there had been no one else around, he'd had half a mind to pin her against a wall backstage and have his way with her after that performance.
Fuck, he thought to himself again as he felt himself begin to stiffen again at the memory of her grinding herself shamelessly into him in front of the entire world. He knew he should be embarrassed for allowing and participating in such a performance, but he wasn't. It had been exhilarating. An excuse to touch her the way he'd been tempted to too many times as they worked out or after watching her rehearsals.
"It is not a matter of wanting or not wanting you," he said honestly. "It is a matter of propriety and what is professional and what is not professional. I do not sleep with my co-workers, superiors or employers."
She sighed in frustration at him and his high standards. Even now, while she was practically throwing herself at him and she knew he wanted her, he refused to budge on the matter. She understood it and appreciated it, in a way, and tried to not take it personally.
He exhaled deeply and drew her close to him. "I am not going anywhere. We have a lot to figure out in terms of what this is. If I weren't doing…a job-"
"That's it then? I'm just a job to you?" she asked in offence, pulling away.
"No," he shook his head. "That is the problem. You are not just a job to me anymore and that makes me a liability to you."
Bulma bit her bottom lip as she took in his words and what he was trying to tell her. "You can't do both?"
"No," he answered with certainty. "Not if I am to be of any use to you."
"I disagree," she said. "Who better to look after me than my boyfriend?"
Vegeta smirked at her. He'd never been anyone's boyfriend before. Was that where this was going? He supposed if circumstances were different, yes. Without thinking, he leaned into her and kissed her again; at which she responded immediately and kissed him back.
She ran her hands up along both sides of his neck and up into his hair, revelling in the texture of it as she kissed him back. Yes, she wanted him so badly it hurt, but at the moment he had given her all the validation she needed. She was genuinely exhausted and she had time off now to spend and focus on him and getting well again.
"You're lucky I'm dog tired," she said, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
"Hmmn," he grunted. Relieved that she seemed to be okay with leaving things as they were for the moment. If he was going to break his rule for her, he did not want to feel like he was taking advantage of her. "You need to rest. Take a shower. I will go take one on my side."
"You'll come back though?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. She liked the odd time he had or they'd fallen asleep on the couch together. She slept better knowing he was near.
"I will come back and join you," he nodded. It would be torture, but he would. Somehow though, it had felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He had accepted his own feelings and had shared them with her.
They had time to take a breather and decide where to take things from here and he had to admit, it felt good.
Vegeta left the washroom, closing the door behind him. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and quickly consumed it as he headed into his side of the apartment and turned the shower on. He discarded his clothing and hopped right in, wincing as the cold water stung his body.
What was he doing, he wondered. Now that he'd had a few minutes by himself and was able to think clearly, he began to chastise himself. He absolutely could not be both a boyfriend and a bodyguard. He knew this. He had told her this.
Yet why did he still want to attempt it?
As he'd said to her, she had some time off to relax.
She finally had somewhat of a break.
It could be a chance to see what a real relationship with her might or could look like. Sure there was the reality that she would go back to a gruelling schedule, but he needed to know if he felt this way about her because he really cared for her or was it just something he wanted to fulfill a fantasy and physical attraction he'd always had for her and a way to find a release after living closely with her for months and her constantly tempting him?
No, he did genuinely care for her, he decided easily and without much deliberation. She was the first woman with whom he'd felt an actual deep emotional connection with. He'd been with women before, but it was always more of a friends with benefits sort of thing or a way to burn off pent up stress. He'd never actually had the time or opportunity to be able to even consider any of them as relationship material.
This was all unchartered territory to him and he wasn't sure if he was excited, frightened or even cut out for it.
Freshly washed, he changed into a black tank top and pyjama pants and made his way back over to Bulma's suite and found himself relieved that she was already in bed, fast asleep. Carefully, so as to not disturb her, he crawled in next to her and it did not take him long to fall asleep as well.
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